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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26833060">Yantober 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decaykid/pseuds/Decaykid'>Decaykid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016), The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Inktober, M/M, Monster Lover, Multi, Teratophilia, Yandere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:49:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26833060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decaykid/pseuds/Decaykid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Yandere Character x Reader prompts inspired by an Inktober prompt list for Stranger Things and The Umbrella Academy.</p>
<p>Chapters titled by Prompt + Character for ease of access.</p>
<p>TW listed at the start of each chapter in the A/N. General TW for canon typical behavior/themes/etc and yandere typical behavior/themes/etc.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Allison Hargreeves/Reader, Ben Hargreeves/Reader, Billy Hargrove/Reader, Cha-Cha (Umbrella Academy)/Reader, Demogorgon (Stranger Things)/Reader, Diego Hargreeves/Reader, Dustin Henderson/Reader, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Reader, Grace Hargreeves/Reader, Hazel (Umbrella Academy)/Reader, Jim "Chief" Hopper/Reader, Jonathan Byers/Reader, Joyce Byers/Reader, Kali Prasad/Reader, Klaus Hargreeves/Reader, Lucas Sinclair/Reader, Luther Hargreeves/Reader, Martin Brenner/Reader, Max Mayfield/Reader, Mike Wheeler/Reader, Mind Flayer/Reader, Nancy Wheeler/Reader, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy)/Reader, Reginald Hargreeves/Reader, Robin Buckley/Reader, Shadow Monster | Mind Flayer/Reader, Steve Harrington/Reader, The Handler (Umbrella Academy)/Reader, Vanya Hargreeves/Reader, Will Byers/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. First Kiss [Brenner]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TW: mentions of human experimentation and implied mindbreak</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div><p>The fluorescent lighting in the pale room puts a haze in your brain, giving you the effect of a dream or memory. There’s a full ache along your back, a protestant soreness from stiff muscles. You spend most of your time in bed, gaze unfixed as your mind drifts to the world outside and your life before. There’s a disconnect from the Then and Now and some days you have a hard time wrapping your mind around the fact that both points in time are the same story- your story. But the Before You doesn’t feel like <em>you</em>, they feel like someone else, a stranger, a character, someone from another story.</p></div><div><p>You only know of chilled, sterilized rooms, the beeps of monitors and the sting of IVs. You know of scheduled meal times, puzzles for enrichment as doctors observe through a one way window, and the ink tattooed on your inner wrist marked with numbers like a branding.</p></div><div><p>The door handle of your housing quarters jingles, then twists and the door opens.</p></div><div><p>In steps Dr. Martin Brenner with a warm, pleasant smile on his face as he slides his hands into the pockets of his pants.</p></div><div><p>“How are you feeling this morning?” He greets, as he always does.</p></div><div><p>Gracefully, mechanically you slide into a sitting position onto the bed, with your legs hanging over the side of the bed and your hands resting palms up in your lap. You look up at the doctor from your spot on the bed and he looks down, smile still on his face as he walks closer until he’s nearly looming over you. The fluorescent lighting puts a glow around the doctor’s white hair, giving him the appearance of a halo, and there’s something alight in his dark, deep set eyes. He’s standing tall, confident, like a pillar, a pillar of strength... your strength.</p></div><div><p>“I feel good.” You say, like you always do, because you know the spoken conversations are nothing more than formalities and pointless chit chat. You and the doctor speak in your own language, one that goes beyond words, one built off of lingering glances and little touches.</p></div><div><p>He removes one hand from his pocket, tucks his forefinger beneath your chin and leads you to tilt your head upwards, then left to right. Your breath catches beneath his intense, heavy gaze.</p></div><div><p>“You look good.” He says, and you feel your face faintly flush hot.</p></div><div><p>You never tire of it, if his quiet gushing and sly compliments. You’re his favorite, he says, his best work. He tells you this when you’re strapped to a gurney, monitors and wires tracking everything your body does, betraying the way your heart skips or your breath catches as he brags about you to his team, his face blank and passive, expressionless, save for the dark and playful light that dances just below the surface of his eyes... he takes pleasure in playing with you, making you vulnerable, putting you on display and claiming you as his own. And you’re more than happy to be his, his prized experiment. He’s your savior after all, the one who confirmed something you’ve known all along... that you aren’t normal. He took you in, showed you your potential, harnessed it, and you owe him your life for it.</p></div><div><p>His hand moves from your chin, his knuckles move lightly with a feather’s touch along the contours of your face and he catches a few stray hairs, gently tucks them away from your face. His knuckles move back down your face, down your cheekbone, along your jaw, and his hand settles back under your chin. You’re starring at him, gaze transfixed upon his face, breath caught in your throat and heart beating in your chest.</p></div><div><p>You wait, longing, even as he’s touching you.</p></div><div><p>He teases you, runs the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip. Your eyes slip close, you part your lips against his thumb and in a daring move, you run the tip of your tongue along the length of his thumb that’s exposed between your lips. Slowly, you open your eyes, unsure if you’ll be met with his displeasure. Instead his usual nearly unreadable one sided smirk has grown into something sinister. A shiver runs down your spine- he has all the control now that you have, without speaking a single word, let him know you’re wanting, waiting, eager if it’ll please him... all he has to do is concede.</p></div><div><p>Slowly, he guides his hand from your chin to your throat where his finger tips rest gently against your skin, with just enough pressure for him to feel your pulse against his fingers. He moves with his hand to sink down to a kneel until he’s eye level with you.</p></div><div><p>You watch as your dark guardian angel lowers himself to your level, you, you lowly lifeform in your pale hospital gown and track marks on the inside of your elbow and immeasurable power contained just beneath the surface of your skin, power that’s be given to you by him, a gift from god himself... your god, now kneeling in front you you with his hand around your neck.</p></div><div><p>You imagine him kissing you, choking you, stealing your breath one way or the other, giving you life or taking it away. You’d gladly do either for him. He leans in, you can smell his cologne. He smells pleasant, expensive, like a clean sort of pine. He moves in closer, tilts his head and pauses. He’s so close, you can feel the warmth of his body and his eyes are trained on you. He smiles, confident and cocky and satisfied as your pupils start to enlarge. He loves your attention, loves that his obedient possession understands their place.</p></div><div><p>At last he closes the space between the two of you, and his mouth crushes against yours with urgent force. It’s a striking contrast to way his hand is gently poised around your neck, touch soft even as you faintly taste blood.</p></div><div><p>He holds his mouth to yours for one second, two, then he’s piling away, retracting back into his space, save for his hand still pressed loosely around your neck. You stay still for a few more seconds before you slowly open your eyes... how long have you been smiling? Are you blushing? It’s hard to tell when every nerve in your body feels like it’s buzzing with euphoria.</p></div><div><p>“We have a lot of tests to do today.” He says, slipping back into something more formal and he straightens back out and slides his hand from your neck back into his pocket.</p></div><div><p>All you can do is nod.</p></div><div><p>Any time with him beats sitting around in your room, waiting impatiently for the next moment with him. He’s the only thing that makes any of this worth enduring, after all.</p></div></div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Fall Fashion [Joyce]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one is just fluff, it's what Joyce deserves. Mention of Jopper.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>It has been a long, hot summer, one filled with new love and and romance. While nestled among plastic pumpkins and an array of candy, Joyce welcomes the cooler weather with opened windows and baited breath. Summer romance is known for its quick flings, boring hot and bright like the July sun, and fading just as quickly. She loves you, even though she hasn’t yet uttered those three precious, daring words, but she only knows love to be all-consuming.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The two of you met three months ago, made it official one month ago and while Hopper, jealous and controlling as he is, disapproves of the relationship between you and Joyce, you certainly check all her boxes. You’re kind, caring, and attentive. You’re patient and sweet, you get along with her boys and most importantly, you let her have her secrets.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She watches you come up the sidewalk into Melvard’s, her heart skips a beat and a breath is stolen when the door bell rings, signaling your arrival, and she wonders if she’ll ever get over these adolescent butterflies she gets every time she sees you. She thinks you look cute, bundled up all warm and cozy for the seasonal weather in your sweater and toboggan, with the plaid scarf she got you as a present on your fourth date, and your hands are tucked into the pockets of your jeans, leaving you to nudge open the store door with your elbow. She melts when your face lights up upon seeing her, and there’s something about your presence that just feels right, like a calming peace washing over her mind and chest. You greet her with a quick kiss and a tight embrace, she breathes you in, memorizes you, saves it for the long, remaining hours of her shift when she’s aching and counting down the seconds until she can see you again.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The two of you go back to the break room, and over the lunch she so lovingly made before sending her sons off to school and coming into work, you talk about your day and she clings to your every word, every mannerism, each individual affliction in your voice. Your voice, it’s like music to her ears, sweet and enticing it kills her. Your eyes are like the movies,  so vibrant and full of wonder to her, she looses herself in them. She watches your hands, your mouth, your posture. She watches you, absorbs you, piece by piece. She laughs along with you, shares in your annoyance and frustration, celebrates your small victories, offers a listening ear, lends a shoulder, gives advice. And all the while, in the back of her mind, she thinks of what it’d be like to undress you from your layers, one at a time, unwrapping you like a present.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Break is over, and you go back to work; she’s left with a smile, a warmth in her chest, and thoughts of you. She thinks of tomorrow’s date, a night in at her place, she’s already got the movies picked out. She thinks of you two on the couch, huddled together beneath the blanket, warm apple cidar on the coffee table and you in your scarf. She thinks of your hands trembling as you had opened the box, thinks of the way your face beamed through the blush, thinks of how you wrapped the scarf around her, pulled her into a kiss- the first kiss you two had shared, and she had almost confessed her love for you then. She decided she’s going to confess to you tomorrow, after the boys have gone to bed and she can have a bit more intimacy with you. In truth, she’s not entirely sure why she hasn’t told you she loves you yet- she’s never been known to do anything without jumping blindly and wholeheartedly headfirst into it, and giving it all she has to offer and then some. While it’s true some part of her still mourns for Bob, his untimely demise did little to stop this new relationship she has with you, but she’s be lying to herself if she denied his absence left something unshakeable within her, a quiet fear, not of portals and monsters or mad scientists playing god, but one of loneliness, of being left behind. Joyce feels so deeply, her joy, her love, her passion and also her rage, her jealousy, her fear. She wants you, needs you so much, like the very air she breathes, but there’s a lot that comes with that, with her love. Accepting her feelings for you means more than the euphoria and glee you give her, but the darker aspects too, the ones bred from insecurities, echoes of complaints about the house being dirty even after you just worked two shifts to pull in extra money because Lonnie has gotten laid off again, and accusations of her babying her sons too much, that she’s turning them into queers because she refuses to treat them like men. It’s a lot to take on, the good and the bad, but she’s willing to do it for you.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Anything for you.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But will you do anything for her?</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>That is what she fears as the breeze outside brings cooler air. Do you love her? All of her? The worst of her? The most violent of her? The most possessive of her? The most clingy of her?</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She hopes you do, needs you to. Whether she likes it or not, wants it or not, she’s grown attached to you.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She thinks of you again, out at work, in the world, donning her scarf on your neck, a declaration of her love, of her claim, and it eases her mind.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She trusts her instincts, and her heart.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There’s an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, a sort of pull that can’t be faked. And there’s just a peace about you, she hasn’t felt that peace in quite some time. She looks at the clock, watches the seconds among the plastic pumpkins and array of candy and she waits for the next time she can see you again.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Costume [Flayed Billy]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: for Flayed Billy doing Flayed Billy things, mentions of death (including a car accident)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>“Yo Billy, that costume is sick man.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Billy stops in his tracks, leaves and twigs crunching beneath his boot as he does so. He spares the drunk boy a single annoyed glance before looking down at himself. He’s in the clothes he always wears, with his denim jacket traded out for one of leather. He started the night wearing a fake set of fangs but quickly discarded them when he found they got in the way of his drinking. No, his peer, whom Billy now recognizes as the guy who sits behind him in math class, isn’t talking about his half-assed vampire costume, but the dark, smokey looking tendrils twisting along the back of Billy’s hands and neck like oily veins.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Billy swallows thickly- The Shadow must be having an adverse reaction to the alcohol. It’s fine, he thinks, he won’t have anything else to drink tonight, his got his mind set on something else right now anyways. A few hours ago he had arrived at a house party, a stereotypical Hawkins kegger, and Billy was eager to blow off some stream; tonight is his first night going out and leading a normal teenage life since the car wreck in July. For months he’s been held up in his own room, locked in self isolation and fear, fear of what lays inside him, lurking just beneath his skin. But he’s grown tired. Tired of the internal struggle, tired of his room feeling like a prison for reasons that go beyond Neil and his authoritarian control of the household. So he went out, decided to loosen up his self restraints, and try to learn to live again. He had been more than content to party and get wasted at whatever football jock’s house the teens of Hawkins were trashing while his parents are away, but then he heard murmurings of another gathering in the woods by the quarry where more than just alcohol is being shared, but it wasn’t the promise of pot that had Billy driving his newly restored Camaro through the mud and brush out into the middle of nowhere on Halloween night, he had heard you were here with your circle of friends. Billy shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, he needs to find you.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Hawkins quarry party has garnered the attention of those outside Tiger territory; teens from neighboring towns are showing up as well to take part in the festivities. Down on the beach of the body of water are where those filled with liquid courage are gathered, boys egg and challenge each other to jump into the cold water in reindeer games fueled by booze and testosterone. A little off form the beach the alcohol is being supplied, kegs are kept in the back of pickups, twelve packs are stacked in the back of wagons, and a little further off the beach but not quite into the woods a roaring campfire has been built, where you and your friends sit nestled around the light and warmth as you sit sharing drinks, smoke and scary stories. While the mood is generally relaxed and fun, there seems to be an underlying stiffness looming heavy in the air just beyond the warm fuzz of inebriation. The quarry’s location for the Halloween party is completely intentional. I’m just a few short weeks, it’ll be the two year anniversary of Zombie Boy’s body being pulled from the water. Of course, as it was later found out, the body didn’t belong to Will Byers, who was later found in the woods, but from a cold case a few years back and couple of towns over. While everything had its logical conclusion in the end, the quarry still holds about it an eerie air of mystery perfect for the get-together.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There is also a lingering uncertainty in the minds of Hawkins’ adolescent youth. There have been a string of deaths and disappearances since the start of the new school year. The first had been your ex, Trevor. You called the relationship off early in the summer, you wanted to get serious about your academic career now that your senior year is here with college in the horizon, but while you had your eyes set to the future, Trevor just wanted to stay in his bubble and thoroughly enjoy his glory days in high school. You didn’t need him weighing you down, so you called it off. That conversation has haunted you since you first heard about the horrific car accident that Tuesday morning before school. Trevor has been speeding, something you e always known him to do, when he’d hit a sharp turn. His car flipped off the road and hit the trees with such force it had sheared off the top of his vehicle, essentially decapitating him. The police had said the force of the impact killed him before the trees did. The funeral was closed casket, and rumor has it his head still hasn’t been found. You try not to think about it when you lay in bed at night, the guilt too heavy a burden for you to bear. He had wanted to get back together with you right before school started, but you remained true to your decision. Now you often wonder if you had been too harsh.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The next death came a couple of weeks later. It had been Joshua from your gym class. He was on the basketball team, and had gone for a morning jog on the weekend in preparation for the upcoming season. He had used one of the hiking trails that winds through the woods, lost his footing on one of the steeper inclines of the hills where he fell down the hillside. He may of made it, if his tumble hadn’t have caused a mini-landslide. The rocks had bashed his skull and torso in, or at least that’s what the talk of the town says. Joshua was a jerk, and while you were one of his many victims of cruel teasing and hazing you’d never wish a freak accident like that one him, or anyone. Sure, you wished he’d drop out of school or get transferred, or maybe move to another state altogether, but you never wished death upon him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Now, to top everything off, your history teacher hasn’t shown up the past couple of days. While it’s not like him to be absent without fair warning to his class, there’s been talk about a family emergency. Still, it makes you unsettled. You haven’t been doing very well in that class, history was always Trevor’s favorite, and while your teacher provided sympathy, that only got so far when it came to your grades. There are times, in the dead quiet of night when truth and fear are indistinguishable in the shadows that you wonder if you are cursed, but in the light of day you remind yourself Hawkins is a small town, and everyone has a connection to each other in one form or another.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>You watch as the newest arrivals come filtering in as your draw your jacket a little tighter around yourself, overcome with the sensation of being watched as a prickling chill crawls up your neck. You glance about the scattered bodies until your searching eyes meet Billy Hargrove’s piercing gaze.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>You’re surprised to see him here. He had been in a car wreck around mid-summer then suddenly disappeared from the adolescent social scene of Hawkins. He became quiet, reclusive and only seen dropping off or picking up his sister. The adults threw words around like “trauma” and “PTSD”, new terms and labels in the field of psychology. You don’t understand it, but to you now it seems as though Billy is coming back out of his shell. You wonder what it must have been like for him, the wreck. You think of Trevor and the gruesome details. You wonder if Billy ever feels guilt, about being the one who survived. You wonder if he feels alone, isolated in his change. You think of second chances. You can’t resolve things with Trevor, but Billy is here, and he’s reaching out. The two of you aren’t really in the same social circles, but he seems friendly enough in the halls of Hawkins High, or as friendly as an asocial teenage rebel can be, at least. You offer a smile and give a nod, one that’s an invitation. Billy glances about the group before his expression turns to that of visible discomfort.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Your smile falters, falls off your fave completely and you turn your weighted, absentminded attention to the fire. For a moment, your happy to sit there as you are and pretend the interaction never happened.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>‘Don’t you miss what we had?’ </em>Trevor had asked.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>‘School’s what important to me.’</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>You’re not giving up so easily.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Billy’s heart begins to pound in his chest as he watches you get up from the fallen log you were sitting on. There’s no way The Shadow wants to get anywhere the heat or light- images flood his mind, a wired trap in the Byer’s house, men in hazmat suits with their flame throwers, Hopper deep in the tunnels with a torch. He was trying to figure out a way to get to you, even thought of daring the fire’s hot, bright presence but he doesn’t have to- you’re coming to him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hey,” you greet, face flushing warm as you approach and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or blush.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>This is, the moment Billy has been waiting for since he first laid eyes on you in the parking lot of Hawkins High the morning of the first day of school.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p></p>
    <div>
      <p>He’d spent the summer healing, adjusting. Becoming host to an interdimensional being has been surprisingly exhausting for Billy. Sharing headspace, a body, all took time to adapt too. He suddenly had to become hypervigilant of his own mannerisms and behavior, to make sure no one would grow to suspect anything which is hard to do when the Shadow is constantly trying to communicate with Billy in the limited way he can- through disjointed pictures and sounds, like memories, but they’re sometimes present. And to top it all off, the whole town- family included -believes Billy was in a car wreck. Though it’s partially true, it certainly isn’t <em>the</em> truth.</p>
    </div>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>In any event, trying to manage this new life inhibiting a body that was no longer fully his was a difficult enough challenge over the summer when all he did was stay holed up in his bedroom or give Max rides to or from town or her friends’ places. He had no idea what school would be like- could he keep the facade , or would the mask give way to unimaginable horror? It was that smile you had given him nearly halfway across the parking lot in the first day of school that had eased his worries and captivated his attention. He knew then he wanted you, and the Shadow’s presence in his mind seemed to amplify these feelings- the strong, terrifying, explosive feelings that ignited within his chest as your gaze lingered just a second too long before turning away.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>“Hey,” he says back, tone warm and inviting, nearly a purr with a small, flirty smile playing at his lips.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>He loves the way you look in the soft, flickering glow of the fire, watching him, waiting, a feint blush coloring your face and he wishes he could carve the moment out, keep it with him in his veins so it’d always be in his heart.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>“I’ve been meaning to-“ Billy starts, pauses. There’s a few newcomers straggling on to the scene, included are Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler. From the moment Billy’s eyes pick him out from across the clearing where the drunken teens are gathered, memories flood his sense: a dimly lit cabin and searing heat.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>Jonathan is not to be trusted.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>“Hey, uh, you wanna... go somewhere a little less crowded? I know a place.” Billy says, voice low and warm.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>Your heart skips a bit.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>Alone, with Billy Hargrove? The Hawkins heartthrob turned mysterious, brooding boy?</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>How could you possibly say no?</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>You have no idea how long the two of you have been kissing, you’ve gotten lost in the moment- the feel of his lips against you, soft and persistent, the languid way his tongue explored your mouth with teasing strokes, his hands on your waist, gentle yet sturdy, the smell of his cologne sharp, spicy and pleasant mixed with the touch of nicotine and leather that clings to his jacket, the one now draped over your shoulders.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>There’s a heat that exists, not the one shared between your two bodies, but one growing in your lower abdomen, between your thighs but your not sure if you dare to take it to the next level. You’re here to have fun, yes, and this is definitely fun, but even though you broke up with Trevor before the accident, you still haven’t really gotten over him and you’re not sure if you’re ready to move on, at least not yet. Billy doesn’t seem to eager to push things past were they are either, and for a moment at the back of your mind you wonder if maybe you two could heal together.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>Before you can get too wrapped up in the What-ifs and maybes, the sensation in your mouth suddenly changes as Billy’s tongue seems to turn cold and slick, with what feels to be a strange, mucusy slime. It feels and tastes disgusting, bitter almost, but you’re not entirely sure what’s going on or what to do so you sit there, uncertain as Billy keeps kissing you, his cold, slimy tongue venturing further and further back into your mouth until you half gag, half exclaim as you pull away.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>“Billy, what the fu-“</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>You watch in disbelief as what looks to be some sort of tentacle retracts back into his mouth.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>“What the <em>fuck</em> was that?” You ask as you bring your arms up and pull his jacket a little tighter around your shoulders but it does little to ease the way your blood’s run cold.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>“Sorry, I uh.. I just got carried away.” He says with a shy, impish grin.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>“No, I mean what was <em>that</em>, in your mouth...”</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>He looks at you, same smile stuck on his lips and you stare, waiting for some sort of explanation and as the seconds tick by you watch as his warm, flirty demeanor slow slips and gives way to something that runs a chill down your spine. Though his expression looks panicked, there’s a wild look in his eyes.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>You’re sprinting through the dying foliage before you ever realize you got to your feet.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>You’re heart is ringing in your ears, each breath you pull in feels like it’s going to make your lungs explode, you’re feet move quickly, are they even touching the ground? Leaves and twigs crack under foot, beaches snap and swing out of your way- you have no idea where you are going and there’s barely enough moonlight to light your way through the dying autumn canopy. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>
      <em>Get away. Get away. Get away. Get away.</em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>You hear him call after you.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>This has to be nightmare. You’re going to wake up in your bed, hungover and safe and realizing you had a little too much fun at the party.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>You break through a line of bushes, don’t notice the sudden drop until you’re tumbling down it. You land face down and the air is knocked from your lungs. You lay there, stunned, lungs aching as a silent scream is swallowed by the night.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>Maybe you lost him. Maybe you’re safe. Maybe you’ll make it home by sunrise.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>You hoarsely gasp as air finally fills your lungs again. You cough, struggling to push yourself up to your hands and knees. You try not to gag. The air smells awful, putrid, like the fields after they’ve been fertilized, or roadkill that’s been sitting in a ditch for a few days.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p></p>
    <div>
      <p>You stumble as you try to get to your footing beneath you, realize one of your feet have sunk into the loose, soft, damp earth of the woods.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>“You weren’t supposed to find out...”</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>The chill of the fall air suddenly seeps into your veins as you hear his voice behind you. As panic and adrenaline take over, you try to yank your leg free and as you further disturb the earth, the smell of death thickens in the air and you swallow back a gag.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>“... not like this, not yet ...”</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>The ground finally gives way to your force and you stumble forward, half fall, half collapse to your hands and knees as a sob escapes you.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>No.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p><em>No</em>...</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>You look around the small clearing, vision blurring and heat rushing to your face with the rush of tears that spill down your cheeks. In the dim, surreal light of the full moon you can make out two more small mounds of disturbed earth.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>Shallow graves.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>“No.” You barely recognize your own voice.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>“I couldn’t let them get in the way of your happiness,” Billy says as he approaches you. He knows it’s a lot to process, Death isn’t something to be taken lightly, but the acts were not done in vain. He’s certain he will make you see his- <em>their</em> -side of things, he just needs some time. Carefully, he crouches behind you, then slowly reaches out to gently place his hands on your shoulders, “... <em>our</em> happiness.”</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>You shudder.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>Trevor.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>Joshua.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>Mr. McKenzie.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>“There’s nothing any of them did to deserve this.” You stammer, it feels as though your body is shaking in time with your racing heart, and Billy’s hands on your skin makes you want to crawl out of your body, sink into the ground itself ... is that where you are going to end up? Will you be buried beside the others?</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>Will anyone ever find you?</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>“Right now, you don’t see the big picture-“ you yelp out in surprise and terror as in one swift movement, Billy suddenly pulls you down then gets on top of you, his hands pinning your wrists out to your sides, his knees straddling your hips and as you look up at him, the sick way his eyes are alight with excitement and something soft, like this is supposed to be fucking romantic, and that stupid smile on his face, the one you had thought was charming, with his hair falling in curled locks around his face and the branches of the trees overhead reaching into the yawning starry sky, you wonder if this is going to be the last thing you ever see.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>“You see, he’s had a plan, for Hawkins, for us. He’s going to make a new world and we, we’re going to rule it. It’ll be me and you, side by side in this dark, new place. It won’t be easy, rebuilding the world. People are going to have to die. Not just ex-boyfriends and teachers who had hardons for their authority, but powerful people, those who oppose us, who stand in our way.”</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>Body going limp, you stop struggling against him once he smiles down at you fondly, and you realize with despair that you aren’t making it out of this alive.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>“I promise I didn’t intend for it to go this way. This is happening a lot sooner than I had planned. I wanted to get to know you better, wanted you to get to know me, that way when the time came, you’d know it’s the right thing to do. I guess it doesn’t really matter though, you’ll understand once he shows you.”</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>Slowly, he leans in towards you.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>“This is a lot easier when you don’t fight back...”</p>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Rainy [Barb Holland]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW for typical Yandere themes</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>It’s the kind of chill that seeps through clothing and settles into the bones, the rain pours in a steady torrent and the teens who are eagerly awaiting the buses are clustered together beneath the school’s awning, bundled in the layers and some couples use the excuse of warmth to cuddle, and then there is Barb, who is sequestered from the rest. It came as no surprise to her when Nancy told her she’d be going home with Steve, though it still stung. The new couple with their budding romance certainly seem clingy, unhealthily so in Barb’s opinion, and she’s tired of feeling like the third wheel- clunky and unwanted. With her childhood best friend suddenly growing out of Barb’s friendship, Barb has had more free time in her hands. She’s not sure if it’s something to fill this new found boredom, the space Nancy used to occupy in her life, or if Nancy and Steve’s relationship is some how encouraging her to try and venture out romantically too, but whatever the reason, here lately she’s had her eyes on you. And right now, you’re one of the many students seeking shelter from the weather beneath the school’s awning and huddled with your friends as your change idle small talk to fill the time while waiting anxiously for the buses to arrive.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>While you’re not one of the popular students of Hawkins High, you don’t really have any enemies either. Like Barb, you keep your head down and mostly keep to yourself. You go to your classes, hangout at football games, generally blend in with the masses while carving out a little space for yourself and your friends as you make it through the golden years of your youth, and <em>oh</em>, what Barb wouldn’t give you be a part of your little circle. She doesn’t consider herself to be a jealous person- no, she isn’t <em>jealous</em> of Steve, she just feels <em>betrayed</em> by Nancy -she finds in that moment she hates your friends. The skies are grey, the clouds hang low, summer is but a memory but your smile holds the brilliance of June’s bright and brilliant sun with the way it l it lights up your face, and your laugh is like the beautiful bird songs of spring, warm and light. She wonders what it’d be like to be standing with you now, sharing warmth in an innocent way, shoulders brushing as she laughs along with you. Her heart skips a beat of the two of you laughing together, sharing a glance as you smile at one another, the moment private, shared. The exhilaration of making you laugh, or you feeling joyed by her presence, that she could maybe make you happy the way you make her happy... it’s enough to make her head spin.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div><p>Sitting in the backseat of her mother’s car, quiet and brooding, she watches the rain droplets fall in streams down the window as she entertains darker fantasies. She could be your friend, she really could, if you would just give her a chance, but that’s the problem, no one ever gives Barbra Holland a chance. Her interests, her physique, her personality, she’s always too much or not enough. She doesn’t know how to make herself demure, quiet and obedient, she’s got too much to say, too many thoughts in her head and feelings in her chest. So much love...</p>
<p></p><div><p>She wants to show you, she feels certain you could fall for her too, if only you could get to know her. She’s not certain she can approach you, hates the thought of doing the whole small talk and getting to know one another thing. Oh how she wishes she could whisk you away somewhere, so it’s just the two of you, you as hers and her all yours. Without the societal pressure to conform maybe you could look past the superficial- her red hair and glasses and freckles, and fall for the real Barb. She’d take such good care of you. She gets lost in the thought of the two of you curled up in bed on a cold, dreary fall day, one much like today, huddled together beneath a warm blanket, bodies lazily entertained as the two of you read a book together, mugs of warm beverages on the nightstand, a radio playing softly in the room over. She wonders what you smell like, wonders what you feel like, what it would feel like to have your body pressed to hers. She imagines fingertips beneath clothing, curious, wandering kisses, her name in your mouth, on your lips-</p></div><div><p>“Whatchya thinkin’ about dear?” Her mother asks, and just like that, the warm, pleasant fantasy pops like a fragile bubble.</p></div><div><p>“N-Nothing.” Barb stammers as she looks with intent out the window and tries to Will her face to not flush with the warmth of embarrassment. From up front, her mother chuckles.</p></div>“Well whatever ‘nothing’ is, it was sure makin’ you smile.”</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div><p>She’s zoning out while she’s working on homework, mind restless and wandering. She’s tossing and turning beneath her sheets, anxiously and unable to get sleep, her thoughts always returning to you. She’s taking in slow, deep breaths of the crisp morning air as she moves with the student body while everyone shuffled groggily through the entrance and out into the corridors, nerves are getting the better of her. She hasn’t seen Nancy this morning, she’s no longer a priority. Her races in her chest the moment her gaze picks you out from the crowd.</p>
<p></p><div><p>You.</p></div><div><p>You are the only thing that matters now.</p></div><div><p>And you’re no longer going to be a fantasy, the what if’s and maybes will no longer be contained within Barb’s head, like a child’s game of make believe, not when she can just reach out. Her nails dog nervously into the cuffs of her sweater, nervous as she may be, these last twenty four hours have been hellish for her- she’s obsessed with you, and she needs more now, needs whatever you are willing to give.</p></div><div><p>Hopefully, you’ll start by giving your friendship.</p></div><div><p>As she approaches, the idle chatter between your small circle fades, and her friends turn to look at you, quiet but a bit bewildered. Noting their attention has gone elsewhere, you turn around and smile warmly at Barb, you’re surprised to see her here, it’s not often she’s spotted without Nancy.</p></div><div><p>“Hey,” you greet, tone open and friendly.</p></div><div><p>Barb smiles back, hopeful and encouraged.</p></div><div><p>Maybe she can make you hers after all.</p></div>“Hey.”</div>
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